ITMFYWCLBU 15

“What do you mean a small potted plant… which one is it?”

Clarisse tilted her head, scanning the greenhouse.

Félicité had said it would be set by the entrance, yet she couldn’t find anything that fit the description.

It wasn’t that there were no small pots at all—there were several—but every one of them was still bare, without a single bloom.

Could it be the hyacinths in the back?

Hyacinths were hardy enough to tolerate both cold and heat; they didn’t truly need the greenhouse. But Félicité loved their fragrance and had set aside a corner at the rear of the greenhouse just for them.

Blue-violet, white, pink, yellow, red… rows of colorful hyacinths stood together, irresistibly charming.

“Hmm… but Her Majesty said the entrance…”

Surely she wouldn’t mistake the back for the front.

Perhaps someone had come to retrieve it and missed Clarisse by a moment. Or perhaps Félicité had simply misremembered.

“If I don’t hurry, the Flower Appreciation Gathering will end.”

It would be best to return and confirm.

Just as Clarisse turned on her heel to leave, a faint creak of protesting hinges sounded, and someone stepped into the greenhouse.

For an instant, the memory of the slashed flowers flashed across her mind and she tensed—

Then she saw who it was, and her breath caught.

“…Alexis.”

Why was Alexis here?

He was supposed to be at Gracian’s side today. An aide could not simply leave the crown prince.

…In any case, I have to go back.

Being alone with Alexis here was awkward. The night in the greenhouse replayed far too vividly in her mind. She wanted to believe he wouldn’t do anything forceful in broad daylight, but she couldn’t entirely relax.

“Clarisse, wait.”

She gave a small bow and tried to slip past him as if fleeing, but before she reached the door, Alexis caught her arm.

Her shoulder jolted reflexively. When she looked back slowly, Alexis wore an expression that seemed… hurt.

“Don’t make that face… I won’t do what I did before.”

What kind of face? Clarisse had no idea what she looked like.

And even if he promised he wouldn’t repeat himself, Alexis had begun, lately, to darken without warning. Clarisse didn’t know how much faith to place in his words.

At the very least, in all the memories she had up to two years in the future, Alexis had never once tried to be forceful with her.

Those shadowed looks, those slightly frightening expressions—she had never known him to have them.

When he wore them, he felt like someone else entirely.

Someone dangerous. Someone who, if she tried to run, might seize her and lock her away—

“Clarisse.”

He called her again, still looking troubled.

Either way, with his hand on her arm, she couldn’t escape. There was the difference in strength between man and woman to begin with, and Alexis was a trained knight. Unless he decided to let her go, there would be no leaving.

“I asked His Highness for a little time. I want to talk.”

“…All right.”

Clarisse let out a small breath and allowed him to guide her to a chair inside the greenhouse.

Could the Queen and Prince Gracian be in on this together?

From the beginning, Félicité’s request had been strange. It made more sense to think she had coordinated with Gracian to leave Clarisse and Alexis alone.

Félicité had realized something was wrong the moment Clarisse said she wished to continue serving as a lady-in-waiting. Perhaps she was worried—and trying, in her own way, to help.

Even after Clarisse sat down, Alexis didn’t relax. Though he released her arm, he laced their fingers together as if to keep her from slipping away.

The warmth of his larger hand—slightly hotter than hers—flowed into her palm.

This hand—big, warm, gentle—was the one she had loved.

She had believed, truly believed, that it would protect her. That it would never betray her.

Where did I go wrong…?

Had she made some mistake somewhere, something that led Alexis to open his heart to Wiejeny?

In truth, even two years later—right up until the morning Clarisse was killed—Alexis had been kind.

So kind that until the very end, she hadn’t known he was involved with Wiejeny at all.

An ordinary day, indistinguishable from any other.

That morning, Alexis had gone to the castle after being summoned by Gracian, and Clarisse had seen him off.

“I’m going,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, smiling softly as he left the estate.

That was the last time she remembered seeing him.

He should have returned in the evening.

Instead, shortly before noon, a messenger arrived from the castle: he would be late, returning only at night.

She had been anxious—wondering if something had happened—until she realized the messenger carried a note in Alexis’s handwriting. It must not be anything too serious, she told herself.

Then night.

After dinner, she went back to her room and waited, sitting by the window in the dark, gazing absently at the moon.

She never sensed a presence.

She only realized something was wrong when cloth was pressed over her mouth.

She twitched, trying to turn, but she was slammed against the wall, pinned so firmly she couldn’t move.

As panic rose, something cold and hard touched her throat.

A knife.

There was nothing she could do.

When she whispered Alexis’s name in a trembling voice, laughter—mocking laughter—brushed her ear.

—Stupid woman. To think you didn’t even notice your husband betrayed you. Right now, your husband is probably in Princess Wiejeny’s bed.

The blade slid across her throat.

The face she saw before consciousness vanished was unfamiliar—

But on the hilt of the blood-smeared knife, the crest Wiejeny used was engraved.

She hadn’t understood anything then.

Only after she returned two years to the past did she piece it together: Alexis had been involved with Wiejeny, and because of that, Clarisse had been killed—by someone sent for her.

If only—

If Clarisse had been able to bind his heart so tightly he couldn’t see anyone but her.

If she had noticed before Alexis’s attention was stolen by Wiejeny.

If she hadn’t let him leave the house that day.

Would something—anything—have changed?

But it was useless to ask.

Clarisse was a coward. She never wanted to taste that despair again.

If Alexis would betray her in the future, then she never wanted to be betrayed again. Never wanted to be hurt again.

She wasn’t strong enough to believe, optimistically, that she could simply hold on tighter and keep him from being taken.

So why won’t you let me go…?

She understood.

If she were in Alexis’s position, and someone suddenly said, “You’ll cheat in the future, so break off the engagement,” she wouldn’t accept it either.

But then what was she supposed to do?

There was nothing she disliked about him.

She could never, never say, “I hate you, so leave me.”

“Clarisse… I don’t understand you. Since that day you started talking about the future, you’ve been like a different person.”

So have you, Alexis.

From that day on, Alexis had changed too. To Clarisse—who had only ever known his gentleness—his occasional shadowed gaze was frightening.

“The night in the greenhouse… I know I was wrong.”

Because she remained silent, Alexis lowered his eyes slightly and continued.

“When you said you couldn’t marry me… it felt like everything in here turned cold.”

With his free hand, he touched his own chest.

“I thought—maybe you had someone else. Maybe that’s why you wanted to leave me. The moment I imagined it, it was like my head and my heart were being flooded with black. Of course, that’s no excuse, but… I truly am sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry.”

“I-I don’t have anyone else…”

Clarisse had always looked only at Alexis. She had done nothing that would justify suspicion. She shook her head, and Alexis gave a small smile—half self-mockery, half relief—as he nodded.

“I know. You’re serious by nature. I believe you’d never do that. I believe it, but… you suddenly said you wanted to end things, and now everything inside me is a mess.”

“…Yes.”

It was true: the Alexis who betrayed her was two years in the future. The Alexis in front of her had done nothing wrong.

Yet she had demanded a separation anyway.

She had never truly considered what it would do to his heart, and she had to admit that now.

“Clarisse.”

Alexis shifted, turning more fully toward her.

When she lifted her face, he looked… lonely.

“I love you. Truly. So when you told me I’d betray you someday—cheat on you—I was confused, and angry. I won’t betray you. Even if you tell me to leave, I can’t accept it.”

You say you won’t… but…

In reality, he had.

The words rose to her throat, but she clenched her lips shut.

“Clarisse. Please believe me.”

If she could believe, she wanted to.

She wanted to think the Alexis before her was not the Alexis two years from now.

That this Alexis—unlike the one in her memories—would not leave her even two years later.

But fear still held her.

There was no guarantee in the world that belief would not be repaid with betrayal.

Perhaps sensing her conflict, Alexis reached out with careful restraint and brushed her hair.

The gentle touch made tears burn behind her eyes.

“Can’t you trust me?”

“…I don’t know.”

She wanted to. She was afraid. Unable to say it properly, she lowered her gaze.

“If you can’t trust me anymore, then I must have done something that made you feel unsafe.”

The hand on her head stilled, and Alexis drew her in hesitantly.

“But even so… I can’t let you go. So little by little is fine—just look at me. I’ll do my best to make you trust me again. So please… don’t talk about leaving.”

Clarisse couldn’t nod.

And yet—just a little, only a little—

If it’s the Alexis of now… would he really betray me…?

In her memories of two years ahead, she had never sat in the greenhouse like this, speaking with him.

He had never told her he wouldn’t betray her.

He had never begged her to believe him.

Because it was different from her memories—even by a small measure—perhaps the future two years from now could also be different.

That’s too optimistic…

Another voice inside her warned her not to be swept away.

“I love you, Clarisse.”

And yet—

She could not bring herself to reject the Alexis in front of her.